


My bed in the corner of the room, your bed in front of the door

by Elica



Series: Building A Family [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Hale Fire, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Angst, Foster Care, Guilt, M/M, Orphans, Past Child Abuse, Self Harming, So much angst, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elica/pseuds/Elica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Stilinski died while trying to catch Kate Argent, the night of the Hale Fire. Stiles comes to a foster family. Some months later, Derek joins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles' POV

**Author's Note:**

> I found this prompt on the Sterek tag on tumblr and BAM! Fic.  
> There are multiple triggers warnings on this fic. If you want me to depict them more precisely, please tell me what and how to.  
> Unbetaed.
> 
> "can you imagine Stiles (after his mom dies of cancer and his dad gets shot on the job) meeting derek (whose ex girlfriend burned his entire family alive) in foster care" was the prompt from Mysecretsterekblog.

_“I’m been called kiddo. There’s a fire in the preserve. I’m sorry for our superheroes’ movie night.”_

_“Don’t worry dad. Go save the good citizen of BH, Batman!”_

_“Count on it, Robin. Don’t go to sleep too late.”_

 

***

 

The bedroom looked cozy enough, though it was bigger than his old one. There was old wallpaper on the wall and a new carpet on the floor, two desks, a very big closet and two beds.

“This is your bedroom, Genim,” said Amanda. “Your counselor told me you had some belongings you kept from your home? Do you want me to help you with it?”

“No it’s good. Thank you, m’dam.”

She didn’t touch him but just brushed past his shoulder. Amanda Jenkins was a fifty old women, and she has been in the system for fifteen years now. She knew how to treat kids who had lost everything and who were ole enough to remember everything. There was always a time to adapt, where she had to give them spaces. And she did just that, closing the door behind her, leaving Stiles alone.

He was only ten years old. He had been in an institution for the last seven months. There had been visits from policemen, visits from the judge, visits from his father’s colleagues (Mary, who baby-sited him after his mother’s death had organized a raising to give the sheriff a good funeral and, more important, his only son some money he would access at his majority; “you could buy yourself a car,” she said to him). He refused to see his friends, he rejected his counselor and his psychiatrist multiple times and just waited. For what, he didn’t know there and he still didn’t know now.

Stiles replaced the sheets on the bed in the corner with the Spiderman’s ones his father had bought him one month before his death. He put with great care a teddy bear his mother received on his birth from her colleagues and a Batman puppet he had for his ninth birthday. There was a photo from mum he put on the wall just over his pillow, and a photo of his father in his horrible rose shirt, eating a hot-dog, that he placed just against his mother’s. Stiles wasn’t eager to empty his luggage: there was his books, a photo album given by Scott and Mrs. McCall, his clothes, his Star Wars tee-shirt that was so big he used it as pjs. But for the moment, they all were under the bed.

Stiles sat on and sighed.

He heard that kids could go from foster’s families to foster’s families for years until they reached 16. Perhaps he wouldn’t stay long there. Or perhaps he would. Amanda looked cool though.

 

***

 

_The doorbell rang so loudly Stiles jumped from his bed. He looked at his watch, seeing it was only five in the morning._

_“Dad? Have you forgotten your keys again?” he asked as he opened the door, still sleepy._

_There were two police officers in front of him. And Melissa McCall, her face tainted with tears._

_Stiles’ world crashed down and he blacked out._

 

***

 

So, Amanda was not that great. She wasn’t a bad person, per se, but she wanted to make very good people from broken kids. And some days, it was hard. Like Stiles would have to finish his homework in the way she wanted, and she wouldn’t let it take his medication before he finished, saying that they were messing with him and it wasn’t good for his head.

So homeworks without meds. Stiles was trying very hard not to jump at every sound and words were playing in front of his eyes. It was tiring.

But there was the good side of Amanda. They were on Friday, so no school tomorrow, so it was the night of the games. Amanda had no TV. She had a DVD reader so she made them watch movies, but she didn’t like TV at all. Instead of putting the three kids she had with her husband in front of some horrible realTV show, she made them play games. Cool games. Very cool games. Stiles was the King of Risk. He didn’t like Monopoly though, because Isaac always defeated him. He was a snake when dealing with money. With false money, because with the real one, he was always struggling at the end of the month. Isaac loved sugar too much for his own good.

Isaac had still his father, but he was a beaten kid. His father wasn’t to see him until the judge decided of their future. So Isaac came to Amanda’s house three months after Stiles. They didn’t become friends, but when you had to share your bathroom with another boy, you learnt to make acquaintance. Isaac was in the room next to Stiles.

Lydia was a monster with cards, though she was only eight years old. She was the queen of everything and had the two boys on their knees before her. Stiles didn’t know her story but when he heard her crying at night, or fearing when a male adult was too close to her, he knew it was a bad story. Worse than his’ and maybe worse than Isaac’s. Amanda’s husband, Kurt, never touched her, never was alone in a room with her and was extra careful. But Lidya accepted Stiles and Isaac as friends nonetheless. And she murdered them everytime they played false poker and other wards’ game.

Six months in his arrival in Amanda’s house, Stiles had less nightmares and was beginning to feel a little better. He still had tantrums and could be a pain in the ass when he was angry at everyone and everything. He even made Isaac cry. But it was still getting better.

Then his life changed again.

 

***

 

_“The fire killed twelve people. It was an arson, a crime, Genim. Do you understand?”_

_He said he did, though he didn’t know if the words did come out of his mouth._

_“Your father took the back road to the Hale’s mansion, it was closer to his house. He crossed the path of the criminal and… He got shot. He died in the hospital.”_

_“Hm.”_

_“Do you want to say something Stiles?”_

_He recognized Mary’s voice._

_“Did you catch the villain?”_

_“Yes Stiles, we did. Your dad had wounded her. She’s in custody.”_

 

***

 

Derek was an old kid. That’s what Stiles thought when Amanda made him sit next to him this afternoon. It was on Monday, and Isaac and Lydia were playing in the garden.

Amanda and a man Stiles didn’t know were waiting for him to sit.

“Stiles, I want you to meet Dr. Deaton. He’s a friend of Mrs. Morel.”

Morel was his counselor, his new one. He hadn’t a good relationship with her, but at least she wouldn’t stop him speaking or stop him not speaking. That was cool in Stiles’ mind.

Amanda made a gesture towards the new kid. Stiles could feel her nervousness.

“Stiles, I want you to meet your new roommate: Derek Hale.”

His heart jumped at the name.

“Derek, this is Stiles Stilinski.”

Stiles looked at Derek closely, his pale skin, his black hair, his strange eyes. And Derek was doing the exact same thing. Both turned towards the adult. They didn’t even had to ask any question for Dr. Deaton to start speaking.

“Derek has been expelled from his last family. The system hadn’t any other solution but to give you the same family. The judge didn’t really agree with it but we convinced her it could be a good idea. But first, Stiles…”

The kid gave him a questioning look.

“Are you angry that Derek is here?”

“Why would I be?”

Deaton didn’t answer and turned towards Derek:

“And you, are you feeling guilty about Stiles here?”

To his surprise, Derek nodded.

“Why are you?” asked Stiles.

But Derek didn’t answer. Amanda clapped her hands with a smile:

“Stiles dear, can you show his room to Derek? I’ll serve milk and cookies in twenty minutes. I have to speak to Alan before. Go, go!”

 

***

 

_“Can I choose?”_

_“What you want, Stiles.”_

_The boy hesitated. He only had one luggage. He couldn’t take all his bedroom, or all his home. He had asked for his father’s badge and it was tiny enough for him. But there was…_

_“Any idea Stiles? What can I do for you?”_

_“Mrs. McCall?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Could you keep mum’s Jeep until I’m old enough to drive it? I can’t take it with me.”_

_There were tears in their eyes and Melissa took him in her arms._

_“Of course Stiles. I will._

_“Don’t let Scott touch it! He was the one who nearly break my bike.”_

_“I promess. Would you like to see him?”_

_He sighed._

_“I can’t. I’ll try. Later. ‘M sorry.”_

_“It’s all right.”_


	2. Derek's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek lost all in the fire. He meets Stiles. Things are going to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS !!!!! Multiple !!!!
> 
> And yes, it is a serie. First part complete :)

_“Seriously, Vernon. I have to go!”_

_“Man, it’s the first time we could go out together for weeks. Please. Just one more game and I’ll let you go!”_

_The teenager sighed and took back the joystick he had put in front of the television._

_“Ok. But just one.”_

_“Yeah. My parents will be back in no time either way.”_

_Suddenly, a firetruck passed outside, running wild with all lights and sirens up._

_“What’s that?”_

_Boyd got up and Derek quickly followed him down to the street._

_“Man,” Boyd said. “They’re going your way.”_

_A dark feeling exploded in Derek’s heart._

 

***

 

The house was seated in a calm neighborhood, with a big garden, rich green grass, and three bikes laying on it. There was a sense of family there, calm, peace perhaps. Derek immediately hated it.

Deaton didn’t go out of the car. He was waiting for him, for Derek to say something. But the teenager wouldn’t make his job easy. He pulled on his shirt, putting the sleeves over his hands. The bandages were already worn out. He needed to replace them soon.

“We could go back,” said Deaton.

No, wanted to answer Derek. He didn’t want to go back there. The family had been too much for him. Too loving, and when he shot back, too involved. He found the knife too easily. He couldn’t bear to cross their paths again. He hurt them; they wanted to help and he just… bleed all over their kitchen.

“We can go… Go there I mean.”

“I’ve known the Jenkins’ for ten years now. They’re used of difficult children. You’ll see.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“I’ll try another solution,” told Deaton without blinking. “A foyer could be good for you but I really want to try this. Are you with me?”

Derek nodded instead of answering.

They went out of the car and less than twenty seconds later, Deaton rang at the door.

 

***

 

_The police station was a wreck. A mess. Hell there were even officers crying. What the fuck?_

_“Son, sit here.”_

_Derek obeyed. He was alone. Boyd’s parents were angry that their son had him at home without them being aware of it. So his only friend couldn’t be with him. A deputy had found him on the streets, while he was trying to reach home. He asked him to come to the station, he ordered in fact._

_And then Derek sat on a bench and waited. He was waiting for his dad or his mum. For anyone. Why hadn’t anyone go pick him by now? Were they all at the hospital? Derek hadn’t any phone with him. Dad refused to give him back when he had crushed his budget again. So he couldn’t call._

_He sat up and came to the front desk: “Can you see if my parents are at the hospital?”_

_“Sit back, kid,” answered the deputy. “We’ll call you…”_

_He stopped mid-sentence and looked straight at the entrance. Derek followed his gaze and felt his heart stop dead. Kate was at the entrance, between two officers, handcuffed and her right arm bandaged and bloody. She was smiling at the tension that increased with her arrival. Then she saw Derek and she smiled even more._

_“Thanks for the key, hon. That made it so easy.”_

 

***

 

Deaton hadn’t told him about the kid. Bastard. Derek didn’t know why the boy was sitting with them and considered him with a curious look. Until Amanda introduced them.

“Stiles Stilinski.”

The sheriff’s son. The sheriff Kate murdered before being arrested. Two other lives he destroyed with his stupidity. The scars on his arms were burning him. He needed air. He needed to go out, run and shout. And to cut maybe. To suffer. Oh he needed so much. He wanted to puke.

“Derek?”

He startled. The kid was waiting on the stairs, the adults were eyeing him expectantly. Deaton smiled: “Would you mind going with Stiles? Your luggage is just near the door. Join us when you’re finished with your installation.”

Derek didn’t want to do it, but his body started to move before he could think. He climbed to the second floor behind Stiles. The boy opened a door and jumped on a bed near the window. Derek stopped at the door. One half of the walls were covered with drawings and posters of superheroes. There were textbooks on a desk and a baseball lying on the floor, near a lonely sock.

“This is your bed,” said Stiles pointing the naked other half of the bedroom.

The boy seemed less stressed than nervous. Maybe a bit intimidated?

“Am sorry.”

“What for?” asked Stiles.

Derek shrugged and sat on his bed. He didn’t have much belonging. All burnt in the fire. He just had some stuff he forgot by Boyd, and other he found at school.

“How old are you?”

Derek rose his head. Stiles was sitting back on the wall, his arms around his knees.

“Fifteen.”

“That’s cool. You’ll be free in less than a year then. What will you do?”

Why didn’t he ask about his family? About the fire? About the death and the sorrow and the hurt?

Stiles seemed to understand something on his face because he became suddenly serious:

“We don’t talk about the whys here. Not before the person is ready to talk by himself. I did this with Isaac and it worked. And we did it with Lids and she still hasn’t told anything but she’s our Queen. So, you’re an old man. What will you do?”

“They won’t accept my demand, if I’d ask for independence.”

Derek surprised himself by answering. He didn’t need to go out now. He was just thirsty. And maybe he was longing for this bed, to sleep some time. And he may have wanted to look at Stiles’ book. He hadn’t read one for a very long time.

“Why?”

“I’m a sick man.”

He couldn’t tell the boy about his self harm, his tendencies to see no light in his future, his certainty that, someday, somehow, Kate will find him to finish the job.

The face that Stiles made was one of horror, but he shut it down quickly. He got up:

“I’ll let you be at ease, Derek. Do you want me to bring you water? Or something to eat? I’ll be back!”

 

***

 

_“Derek, do you hear me?”_

_There were two people in front of him. He could see their shadows, hear their voice. But damn he wouldn’t look at them. The women sighed, tired. She was a doctor he thought._

_“Derek, you have to talk to us.”_

_“The deputy told me you said you were guilty. Can you explain me this?”_

_The other was a man, his dad’s lawyer. He came at four in the morning, like he was going to his office, shaved and with a clean shirt. Derek didn’t know him that well. But still, he was not a stranger like the doctor. He sniffed and wiped his tears._

_“Mr. Whittemore?”_

_“Yes Derek?”_

_“Where are my parents?”_

_Another sigh._

_“They’re at the hospital. I asked the rescue workers to keep me informed. Your father is at the hospital. They’re still looking for your mother. And the others. Do you know who was at the house tonight?”_

_He nodded._

_“Everybody. Everybody was there but me. I’m guilty.”_

_“Don’t say that to the inspector, Derek. She said she did it. You don’t need to say anything.”_

 

***

 

Stiles and Isaac went to school every mornings after breakfast.

Derek had to do yoga with Amanda and Lydia, in the living room, or in the garden if the weather was sunny enough. Derek was getting used to Amanda strange manners, but he was growing on little Lydia. The girl was keeping a distance with her body, but she could see through him with sharp eyes that destroy his defenses. Stiles was right that first day when he said she was a Queen. He quickly learnt to make her favorite sandwich and knew how to tell out loud her favorite stories. He became her favorite reader too, because he could do the voices. Bedtime stories were the only time when he would speak without resistance. Lydia reminded him of Sarah, his youngest cousin. The rescuers had never found her body.

Isaac was a little difficult, but three days after his arrival, he began to follow him everywhere.

“Fuck off.”

“Language! And no. I won’t. Would you like to play monopoly with me?”

Stiles was the strange one. He was a full living kid. He loved cooking with Amanda, had a concentration span of a butterfly, hated mathematics and could invent infinite stories about Iron Man.

But Derek knew his favorite hero was Batman, though he never talked about it. He slept with a teddy bear and Derek discovered that he would wet his bed twice a week at least. He had nightmares or couldn’t sleep for hours. And sometimes he would watch Derek closely in silence, like he was a big problem that needed to be resolved.

“What is your illness?” asked the boy one night. None of them was sleeping.

“Guilty.”

“Oh. I thought you had a physical illness, like my mum. Guess I won’t offer you water and chocolate or a massage now.”

“You never offered me massage, Stiles.”

“Yes but I could have! I did it to my mum but my hands were too tiny so that was not very effective.”

There was silence for a so long time that Derek thought Stiles was sleeping. But the boy talked again.

“I saw your arms, you know. Why are you guilty?”

“I killed my whole family. And your father.”

He hoped that would shut him up.

“You’re not her.”

And then Stiles felt asleep.

In the dark, Derek tried not to cry and failed. He wanted to cross the room and take Stiles in his arms. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank him, to ask for redemption or to hurt him. He just wanted. So hard. But he stayed still. He couldn’t. Not now.

Deaton was a fucker.

 

***

 

_There was the judge, MR. Whittemore and the Argent’s lawyer. And him. All in a little office, with a silent lady in the back taping on a tiny computer._

_“You’re a minor and a victim,” told the judge though Derek understood the situation. “I’ll ask you questions, and you’ll have to answer me, only the truth. If you need help, your lawyer is here. Mr. Goldberg is Kate Argent’s lawyer. Are you ok with this?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_He had been in an institution for two months now, weeping and crying and shouting. He told him the truth._

_“I met Kate at the swimming pool. We discussed a lot and then we went on a date.”_

_“A date?”_

_“Yes, sir. She was my girlfriend.”_

_“She’s twenty-four Derek. You’re fifteen. She was not your girlfriend. Do you understand what she had done to you?”_

_“She thanked me when she came to the police station. She thanked me and the deputies, they all know I’ve killed my family and their sheriff.”_

_“We’ll stop here and make another appointment in two days.”_

_The adults agreed but Derek was already lost._

_He made his first attempted suicide this day, running across the street to fall under a car. Only Mr. Whittemore reflexes kept him from being hurt._

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr : http://fourrureetcapuche.tumblr.com/


End file.
